everyday life

A Healthier Holiday Table

We all know we are supposed to eat more vegetables, and fewer refined grains and sugars, right?  At least I do, but the challenge remains doing so in an easy and delicious way.  Especially when one is cooking for children.  I have one child who wants to be a vegetarian, prefers rice milk over dairy, and eats every single fruit and vegetable you can imagine (with the notable, and random, exception of avocados).  I have another child who eats only meats, cheese, and yogurt, and who eschewed all fruits and vegetables (including such favorites as raisins and apple sauce) until he was 6 and I lowered the boom.  At 6 he had literally never had a fruit or vegetable.  He is almost 8 now, and his repertoire remains limited.  He eats – exclusively, but voraciously – lettuce, spinach, chard, arugula, and kale.  I am not complaining about his intake of greens, but I do wish he would sometimes eat an apple or a potato!

I am a casual cook, and an inexpert one.  I learned from my mother, who is one of this world’s great cooks and entertainers, that the kitchen is not a place for angst.  Unfortunately I lack her talent, so the results aren’t as spectacular, but at least there isn’t a lot of hand-wringing.  I don’t really use recipes very often, and when I do I am haphazard with such things as measuring.  As a result of these biases, I don’t have a single holiday recipe to share.  Instead I have three of my standard vegetable and fruit preparations, each of which is in constant rotation and has become a favorite of my children.  I hope they may help you get a fruit or vegetable into your children soon!

Homemade tomato sauce:

In a large saucepan saute a couple of cloves of sliced garlic in olive oil.  Once it is browned but not burnt, add tomatoes.  In the summer, I use tomatoes from the farmer’s market (to remove skin: make an X in the skin on the bottom, drop into boiling water for 30 seconds, remove, and peel the skin) coarsely chopped.  Maybe 8 big tomatoes.  The rest of the year, I use one big can of San Marzano whole tomatoes, including the liquid.  Add some basil leaves, if you have them, and a sprinkle of kosher salt.  Saute for about 15-20 minutes on medium heat, stirring occasionally.  Once this has cooled, I whir it in the blender for 10 seconds (chunks in tomato sauce being the kiss of death for Whit).  We use it for pasta, for pizza, for occasional dipping.  I always have a glass container of this in the fridge.

Kale salad:

Cut some washed kale (I prefer lacinato, but any will do) into very thin strips. Almost shredded.  In the bottom of a salad bowl mix 2 T of fresh lemon juice, 1/4 C olive oil, and 2 crushed garlic clothes.  Toss the kale in this mixture and let it sit for 30 minutes or longer.  In the meantime, toast some whole wheat breadcrumbs (such a good way to use up the ends of the loaf!) until crunchy and browned.  When it’s time to eat, put the breadcrumbs onto the kale and add some shaved parmesan or pecorino (use a vegetable peeler for long, skinny shreds) on top and toss.  Whit adores this.

Homemade apple sauce:

Peel and core as many apples as you can stand.  Mixture of types is great.  Chop into quarters (approximately) and put into a Le Creuset or similar oven-safe large pot with a snug-fitting lid.  Put the pot in the oven at 350 and let it cook for about an hour.   Check it, and once the apples are mostly broken down, stir well until all chunks are gone.  Bonus: this makes your house smell delicious.  Is a good thing to make after an apple-picking excursion leaves you swimming in bowls of fruit.  And also a good way to use up old or bruised apples.

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I am delighted to be participating in the American Cancer Society’s A Healthier Holiday Table effort.  A few pieces of advice from the American Cancer Society about eating more healthfully, in this season and always, follow.  The links are full of useful and practical ways to make changes we all know we should make!

·         Maintaining a healthy weight can reduce your risk of many types of cancer. Here are ideas on how to eat healthy and get active.

·         Did you know that eating lots of fruits and vegetables can help reduce your cancer risk? The American Cancer Society recommends eating at least 2½ cups of vegetables and fruits each day. Here are two resources filled with ideas for upping your fruit and vegetable consumption through the day.

·         Choose whole grains instead of refined grain products. Here are some innovative ways to add more vegetables, fruits, and whole grains to your day while watching your refined carbohydrates, sugar, and fat intake.

·         Limit how much processed meat and red meat you eat. Some studies have linked eating large amounts of processed meat to increased risk of colorectal and stomach cancers.

·         Drink no more than 1 drink per day for women or 2 per day for men. Alcohol raises the risk of cancers of the mouth, pharynx (throat), larynx (voice box), esophagus, liver, breast, and the colon and rectum.

·         Stock your kitchen with a variety of foods that you can throw together for healthy meals in a hurry. Keep these foods on hand for fast meals on busy nights.

Where they can find you

Poetry and hums aren’t things which you get, they’re things that get you.  And all you can do is go where they can find you.”

– AA Milne

I’ve been thinking about these lines since my friend Garrett reminded me of them a few weeks ago.

This is as good as any summary I’ve read of what my life is essentially about: going where life’s outrageous beauty can find me.  Remaining open to the poetry that exists in every day.  That sounds simple, or at least unequivocal: who wouldn’t want to be open?  Who wouldn’t choose that?

For me at least, though, it’s not that clear, nor very simple at all.  Going to where the poems can find me entails a great deal of pain.  A couple of weeks ago, I was folding laundry on a rainy Sunday night.  Matt walked in to find me sitting on the floor by the base of our bed, a blue t-shirt of Whit’s clutched to my chest.  My face was streaked with tears.  In alarm he looked at me and asked what was going on.  I held the shirt to my cheek and looked at him mournfully.

“This is a baby Gap size 4T t-shirt.  I remember buying it with Whit.  He was home sick, and we went to Harvard Square in the afternoon, just to get some fresh air.  He picked this shirt out.”  Matt nodded slowly at me.  “I won’t ever get that day back,” my voice caught in my throat.  “And I won’t ever buy him a shirt from baby Gap.  He is too big now.”  I shook the shirt out, looking at the robot on the front.  I could reach back and feel that day, turn it over in my palm, the memory visceral, real.  But also: gone.

“Lindsey,” My husband shook his head.

“I know.  Do you think most people get tearful when they fold the laundry?”  I wiped at my face as fresh tears streaked down.

“No.  I’m pretty sure they don’t.”

That is the poetry of life right there, isn’t it?  The swift passage of the years, the brilliant, mundane, heartbreaking contents of a day, the blue robot tee shirt that contains in its soft cotton folds a memory of a long-ago day when my blond son held my hand as we climbed the Gap stairs.  So much poetry.  And so much heartache.  The poems and hums can find me, there’s no question about it.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, but it’s not easy.  It is never, ever easy.


Some early holiday thoughts

A couple of people have asked what specific holiday music I listen to, since I’ve made several references to my year-round passion for Christmas carols.  I have been accumulating CDs I love over the years and I recently made a playlist of my very favorites, which I happily share at the bottom of this post. The question put Christmas on my mind, though.  Christmas is my favorite holiday.  It always has been.  Much like in the rest of my life, I refuse to over-program the holiday season.  I do my cards and my shopping early.  We say no to a lot.  And, as a result, we can really sink into December, rather than sprint through it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have some important family rituals around Christmas (I had completely forgotten that I’d written about our traditions already, until I stumbled upon this post in the archives).  One thing I don’t do early is buy our Christmas tree: we don’t go until the middle of December.  We do go to the same farm every year, as a foursome on a Saturday morning, and the pictures from that outing are always some of my favorites.  Grace and Whit are each allowed to choose one ornament from the overheated greenhouse where you check out, and they look forward to and plan for this choice for months.

We always decorate our tree on a Sunday afternoon, sometimes with a few dear friends or family present (you know you’re special to us if you’ve joined us for this tradition!).  We crank up the carols, drink hot chocolate, and pull out the ornaments, spreading them over the coffee table, and Grace and Whit slowly trim the tree.  Almost every single ornament carries the freight of memory, and I adore the process of lovingly looking over each one.  This is a ritual that was a part of my childhood, and I’m happy to have recreated it with my family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Each year I buy a personalized ornament for each child.  I’ve done photographs, silhouettes, and initials.  I’d love any ideas for this year’s special ornaments.  For the last several years I’ve found them on etsy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One weekend afternoon in December we always bake and decorate Christmas cookies.  For the last several years we’ve danced along to carols as they baked: last year it was to The Lower Lights holiday CD.  It’s extraordinary to me to witness how easy it is to make a tradition and how important they are to my children.  We just randomly started dancing to carols one Saturday afternoon a few years ago, and now it is so vital a part of our family’s year that Grace talks about the “Christmas cookie dance party” all year long.  Attitude is all it takes to imbue the smallest activities with meaning.

Last year we were with my sister in Jerusalem for Christmas, which was a once-in-lifetime experience that none of us will ever forget.  This year, the children have lobbied hard to wake up at home on Christmas morning and I think we’ll make that a priority for a while to come.  As is our standard custom, we’ll celebrate the Solstice on December 21st, we’ll go to our church’s Christmas Eve family service (we missed it two years ago because we were in the ER with Whit), and we’ll mark the evening of the 24th with fantastic wine and carols around the dinner table at my parents’ house with our oldest and dearest friends.

There is so much richness ahead.  I can barely wait. I’m grateful that my bias towards under-committing continues into the holidays, that there are many nights where we sit and look at the lights on the tree, that there is still time to sign along to carols and talk about what different ornaments represent and bring baked goods to friends and write love letters to our grandparents.

And with that, here’s the playlist I’ve got on repeat these days:

Joy to the World – Amy Grant
Angels We Have Heard on High – The Lower Lights
Angels from the Realms of Glory – Annie Lennox
O Come, O Come Emmanuel – Sugarland
Universal Child – Annie Lennox
O Holy Night – Martina McBride
Silent Night – Stevie Nicks
Love Came Down at Christmas – Sean Colvin
The First Noel – David Archuleta
Oh Come All Ye Faithful – Amy Grant
In the Bleak Midwinter – Sarah McLachlan
Auld Lang Syne – Barenaked Ladies
Little Drummer Boy – The Merry Christmas Players
The First Noel – Annie Lennox
Do They Know It’s Christmas – The Tributes
Believe – Josh Groban
The Holly and the Ivy – Annie Lennox
River – Sarah McLachlan
O Little Town of Bethlehem – Annie Lennox
O Come All Ye Faithful – Josh Groban & the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

How do you mark this holiday season (whatever your specific celebration)?  Are there any particular traditions that are special to you?  And do you have any ideas for this year’s personalized ornaments?

A very special weekend

Grace and I spent this past weekend in New York with her best friend and her mother (who is one of my dearest friends; I know, I am fully aware of how lucky I am!).  They turn 10 exactly 7 days apart from each other, this week and next, so we were celebrating their big transition into double digits.

The weekend was gorgeous.  The sky was a saturated, autumn blue and days were warm.  We rode the subway, had dinner at Balthazar, went to a wonderful show on Broadway, danced on the big piano at FAO Schwartz, clinked white wine and Shirley Temples in a toast at dinner.  We took a carriage ride in Central Park,, ate cupcakes from Magnolia in a deserted park in the soft dark of early evening, walked up and downtown, visited mecca (Dylan’s Candy Bar), and had sushi for lunch.

The girls wanted desperately to play on a playground and so we did, walking into Central Park late in the afternoon on Saturday.  I watched them running around, their joy palpable, aware of it won’t be long until they won’t be caught dead at a playground.  My favorite moment in a weekend crammed with happy ones was our walk home from dinner on Saturday night.  Park Avenue was empty, the air held the last gasp of October’s warmth, and the girls ran ahead of us, their laughter ringing in the night air.

As usual it is the in-between moments that move me the most.  I walked down the street, chatting easily with a friend I cherish, watching my daughter and her daughter dancing ahead of us.  Those ten minutes were life at its richest and most wonderful, and I knew it as I stepped through them.  As we rode the train home on Sunday, Grace turned to me, eyes shining with tears.  She told me that she was really sad the weekend was over, but that she knew she would never forget it as long as she lives.

Neither will I.

Be in love with your life

Be in love with your life.  Every detail of it. – Jack Kerouac

I saw this quote over the summer and knew instantly that I wanted to write about it.  This is so much of what I think about, write about, feel these days.  It’s taken me a very long time to fall in love with my life.  A very long time.  But I have, and I am.

But that life is full of challenges, both big and small.  It is full of disappointments and heartbreak, fury and fighting, mess and ugliness.  Every day contains some of these things.  For some reason – I suspect it’s my settling into this season, the square middle of my life, the beginning of the afternoon – I grow ever more accepting of the tarnish that is an inevitable part of each day’s sterling silver gleam.  These days, I far less often allow these troubles the power to occlude the brightness of the rest of my life.

You can’t have one without the other, after all.  Maybe that’s what midlife is, realizing this.  Every detail is required to paint the picture.  Another thing I believe is that you can dislike small things – about your life, about your relationships, most crucially, about your self –  while acknowledging their essential role in the whole.  I don’t know if that’s exactly what Kerouac meant, but that’s how I choose to read his words (believing as I do that actually loving every single detail in its own right may be challenging!).

And so, yes, I am in love with my life.  With all of it.  I embrace the shadowy valleys that are as integral to the topography of my life as are the peaks and the wide, sun-drenched plains.  After all, we are only here for a brief, shimmering second; the least we can do is throw our arms around – and ourselves into – the whole of our lives, as they are, right here, right now.  As my friend Stacy Morrison so gorgeously put it, recently, “I see now how much I want to live my life in a way that honors it, by paying attention.”  I want to honor it all: light and dark, joy and pain, beauty and ugliness.  All of it.

(Speaking of silver, those spoons are Grace and Whit’s, a gift on Valentine’s Day a couple of years ago.  I bought them here.)